Teacher, Death Eater, Soldier, Spy
by hiddenhibernian
Summary: Beware of Slytherins, even if they're bearing gifts. Especially if they're bearing gifts, as Professor Granger finds out to her cost.
1. A Suspicious Package

**Huge thanks to my wonderful beta Elfyna, who went out of her way to make sure this reaches you in a vastly more polished state than before. This was originally written for the SSHG Promptfest on LiveJournal.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **A Suspicious Package**

 **-oOo-**

"Curious." Hermione examined the little parcel deposited in her breakfast porridge by an unknown owl. Dainty, wrapped in tissue paper (albeit now smeared with oats) with a double bow on top, it clearly came from a better sort of boutique than Hermione usually frequented.

Having established that there were no exotic curses placed on the contents (even fifteen years after the war, one could never know), she carefully untied the bow and unearthed a very small box hidden among all the sheets.

For one heart-stopping moment she thought it was from Ron. A ring from Ron, to be precise.

She must have made a noise, as the only other occupant of the staff room emerged from behind the _Daily Prophet_. "I see the Owl Post has yielded unprecedented bounties."

"That remains to be seen."

"The screech was purely born from anticipation, then."

Hermione ignored him, having remembered that Ron had moved in with Parvati Patil and thus was unlikely to embark on another attempt to persuade her that they should get back together 'because they were meant to be'. Instead, she carefully prised the box open. Inside was a small brooch, made of two intertwined stems with flowers fashioned from precious stones. She didn't know much about gemstones, but the craftsmanship was exquisite.

There was no note.

"How pretty," she mumbled, and Snape was over by her side in a flash.

"Yellow sapphire," he determined.

"Is it expensive?"

"More than Armadillo Bile, anyway – it's used in Wit-Sharpening potions, but it's far too expensive for my Potions budget."

"Hardly a gift from a grateful parent, then."

Snape snorted. "In thirty-two years of teaching, I have yet to receive a gift from a parent. Grateful or otherwise."

"Not even as Deputy Headmaster? You'd think someone would chance their arm," Hermione mumbled absently as she examined the brooch, holding it up in the pale winter sunlight.

"In my experience, parents are even bigger dunderheads than their offspring."

"Twenty years spent establishing your reputation as a dour bastard might have influenced their decision." She inspected the crystals forming the petals. They looked like cubic zirconia, but how could you tell?

"I did receive a Howler. Once." Severus didn't seem displeased at the memory. Hermione pitied the unfortunates who had thought it was a good idea to send one to Severus Snape.

Deciding quickly, Hermione pinned the brooch on the lapel of her robes. It looked like a little harbinger of spring.

"Are you going to wear it?" He couldn't have sounded more incredulous if Hermione had announced she was adopting a Blast-Ended Screwt as a pet.

"It's unlike you to ask redundant questions. Yes, I am. It's not cursed, and it's not every day someone sends me gifts, anonymous or not. I actually like it, too." That wasn't always the case. People would insist on giving her books, failing to realise that Hermione didn't like being told what to read. To add insult to injury, they almost always got it wrong.

Harry, bless him, actually listened to her, and normally got something she had mentioned in passing (or fancy chocolates, which was always welcome). Others seemed to think that anything with a binding screamed 'Hermione', without paying attention to the contents.

Being given something nice to wear for once was a lovely surprise.

"Your students will ask where it's from," Severus warned her, as he folded up the staff copy of the paper for the comfort and convenience of the next teacher fortunate enough to enjoy a blessed half-hour free from students. Creased papers and a lack of milk for tea could incite even the most placid staff member to mutiny.

"Then I'll lie." Hermione gathered her half-marked essays, glancing at her watch. "Come on, once more unto the breach."

Severus rose, shrugging his robes into place. "Double Potions with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. If you had any compassion, you'd kill me now."

"Not a chance. I'm not substituting for you." She held the door open for him, the corridors already echoing with chatter from students heading to their next class.

* * *

The next gift arrived at breakfast a week later, accompanied by the daily shower of owl feathers and letters from parents.

Hermione eyed the admittedly splendid parcel with acute suspicion. It was obviously a book. She didn't hold out much hope that it would be something she actually fancied reading.

 _Pride and Prejudice_. She had two copies already, one dog-eared version in her parents' attic and another cheap Penguin edition in her study at Hogwarts. This one was lovely, the sort of book nice bookshops displayed behind glass that you never spent the money to buy for yourself. Hermione would never have forked out for a third copy of a book she already owned twice, not when there were so many unread books out there, but as a gift it was perfect.

Perhaps it wasn't a huge leap to assume a known bookworm enjoyed Austen, but it still suggested remarkable perspicacity from the giver. Her secret benefactor obviously wasn't one of her friends, or he or she had been very successful in keeping that trait hidden.

Unless...

She turned left, only to find Severus already staring at her.

"Another mystery offering?"

"Yes. This one is rather nice." She tilted the book so he could see the embossed front cover.

He raised his left eyebrow. "Rather suggestive."

"They don't even kiss, as far as I recall." What had they been reading in the Slytherin common room in the Seventies, Winnie the Pooh?

"The whole novel, which incidentally is one of the most celebrated examples of romance in English literature, is concerned with the protagonists going from antagonism to love. In conjunction with Suspicious Package Number One, I would call that highly suggestive."

Hermione had spent the better part of last week wondering who the anonymous sender was, and had almost persuaded herself it was a grateful parent – not all teachers thrived on antagonising their students – who hadn't attached the accompanying letter properly. Snape's unexpected summary threw her completely. "I – I suppose it is, if you look at it that way."

He threw her a pitying glance, as if the Hidden Language of Books was taught to Slytherin third years as a matter of course.

"So who do you think it is?" she asked.

"Kindly don't involve me in your love life; I have a Potions department to run." He rose abruptly, leaving a half-eaten slice of toast behind.

Hermione stared at the familiar billowing robes departing towards the side door. It wasn't even the nearest route to the dungeons. She was pretty certain her anonymous benefactor wasn't Severus, but other than that, she was stumped.

* * *

The following week passed by unbearably slowly. The first gift had arrived on a Monday, as had the second. The sender was obviously well versed in the magical world, so it seemed unlikely they would ignore the power of three. Or would they? Hermione marked essays, ran tutorials and even sat through a whole staff meeting without engaging with her brain more than superficially, wondering when something would happen. If it would happen at all.

After Minerva had concluded the meeting ("Only two weeks left until the Easter holidays, thank goodness"), Severus leapt on her like a panther.

"Any more gifts from your secret correspondent?"

Hermione couldn't hide her disappointment. "No. I thought today for sure, but no... Maybe they've given up." The staffroom looked even duller than usual after her admission, grey daylight barely filtering through the heavy curtains. Two weeks may as well be two months, as far as she was concerned.

"It could be a clever gambit to attract your attention, stopping after two gifts to confound you." Snape looked cheerful at the prospect.

She glared at him, which made him positively loquacious. "Naturally, you would expect a third object, or for the sender to reveal their identity. Instead, there is silence, ensuring your curiosity will remain engaged far longer than if the expected outcome had materialised."

"For a dead man, you certainly talk a lot."

"Thankfully, your lack of observational skills does not affect my mortality."

"I still believe you really were dead. You were probably turned into a zombie. It would explain the pallor, wouldn't it?"

"Do you remember the first ten years after the war, when you were too intimidated to talk to me? It wasn't so bad, in retrospect."

Hermione didn't clarify that it had been crippling guilt coupled with admiration that had kept tripping up her tongue. It was less embarrassing to let Severus believe his own explanation. She escaped to her office, so disappointed in her secret correspondence coming to an end that she only recalled her three o'clock tutorial when the students knocked on her door.

That evening, it was Hermione's turn to host the Tuesday drinks. They were a fixture in her calendar, instituted to ensure she got to see Harry and Ron every week, come hell or high water. When Harry's children were younger and Ron still worked as an Auror, their schedules had made it almost impossible to see each other. Hermione had stepped down from Magical Law Enforcement at around the same time it ceased to be a two-man operation to put the Potter children to bed, so the only difficulty nowadays was to tear Ron away from the shop at closing time.

These days, more tea than alcohol was consumed, but they'd been calling them 'drinks' for five years so no one was going to change it now. It had the added benefit of suggesting they still had some sort of a social life.

In retrospect, Hermione should have made more of an effort to have a dissipated youth; it was rather too late now. She didn't even have the excuse of working all hours any longer – at Hogwarts, there was plenty of time for one's own pursuits, whether it was research or more recreational activities.

Most of the time, settling down was a Good Thing (especially Ron settling down with Parvati), but it made life rather boring. Having a Secret Admirer (if you couldn't be all Mills & Boons in your own head, what was the point?), had been a welcome distraction. For one delicious half hour in the bath, Hermione had even allowed herself to pretend it was who she wanted it to be, in the face of all the available evidence to the contrary.

And now the excitement was gone.

Ron had made some strides when it came to interpersonal relationships in recent years, no doubt thanks to Parvati's influence. He was still as blunt as ever, however. "You seem a bit glum, Hermione. Slytherins giving you trouble?"

"I can do my job very well, thank you." She poured him some more tea using wandless magic, to underscore the point.

"Very impressive." Ron didn't look very impressed; she'd used that particular trick before, she recalled.

"How about you, Harry? Still tracking those scarab beetle smugglers down?"

"Nah, they're small fry. Finished up the operation last week. Ron is right, you know. You seem a bit off colour."

"Aren't you two perceptive," Hermione mumbled, but Harry kept looking at her earnestly. Him and his bloody interrogation techniques. "Fine, I'll tell you."

* * *

Harry was holding her precious copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ up to the light, and Hermione had to fight her impulse to grab it back. Meanwhile, Ron was doing his best to make her brooch talk, to no avail. After his fourth detection spell nearly set fire to the table cloth, she kindly but firmly confiscated his wand.

"I could bring it down to the Auror Office and run some tests," he offered as he grabbed the book from Harry, leafing through it trying to decode secret messages where there were none to be found.

"You don't even work there anymore," Hermione reminded him.

"Sure, but I've still got connections."

"Or I could ask Harry, who actually does."

"Hmm," Harry agreed, repossessing the book from Ron and resorting to checking the binding for hidden letters instead.

"No." Hermione made up her mind. "I don't want to find out. Someone did something nice for me; that's enough. I don't care if they turn out to be – Hagrid's second cousin, or whatever. I'll just enjoy feeling like I'm special for a little while."

Harry turned his full attention to her, his eyes looking greener and deeper than usual. "You are special, Hermione. Never doubt that."

She would sound like a complete idiot returning the sentiment by telling him he was also special. Knowing Harry, her somewhat tremulous smile told him everything he needed to know.

"Even if you have terrible taste in men," he added.

"Oi!" said Ron, and normal order was restored.

* * *

After all that, the third parcel arrived the following day.

-oOo-

* * *

 **This is chapter one of five; as usual I'll be updating weekly.  
**


	2. An Unlikely Correspondent

**Chapter 2**

 **An Unlikely Correspondent**

 **-oOo-**

It wasn't often Hermione was lost for words. The most recent occurrence had been Perkins' attempt to explain his presence in the Restricted Section of the Library as a homage to Harry Potter's memory (Hermione had explained that Harry would have to be dead first for that to apply, and no, just because other students had broken the rules and lived to tell the tale didn't mean Perkins could do the same).

This time, it was due to the letter carefully wrapped in the same tissue paper as the first gift she had received.

 _My dear Ms Granger,_

She read with raised eyebrows. Most wizards used 'Madam', and were strangers to Hermione's preferred designation in the Muggle world. The difference between Miss and Ms had passed them by completely. Hermione hated being called 'Madam' – it made her feel as if she'd grown a feathered hat and a double chin.

 _I have been enjoying our recent correspondence, and very much hope it will continue. In the interest of convincing you of my earnest intent, I think it is best that I disclose my identity before proceeding any further. Whilst selecting anonymous gifts has been delightful, I dare to hope for the prospect of less clandestine means of communication._

"Yes, yes, get to the point!" Hermione mumbled to herself, oblivious to her surroundings. Had she been less absorbed in her letter, she may have remembered who else had a long break between classes on Wednesday afternoons.

 _Before revealing my identity, I only ask that you finish reading this letter in full. Should your reaction be unfavourable –_

Hermione couldn't wait any longer. While it had been obvious from the flowery beginning that her secret imaginings were not to be borne out, she was at a complete loss as to who the letter writer was. Someone who was so uncertain of her reaction that they thought she might toss the letter aside, while going to great lengths flattering her. Who could it possibly be?

She quickly turned to the last page of flowery handwriting, only to be disappointed – there was no signature. Flicking back, she continued to read impatiently.

" – _I can only beg for your forgiveness, and promise you I will not trouble you again, except when duty demands it."_

"What?" The word 'duty' leapt out at Hermione – who _was_ this?

" _Without further ado, I declare myself to be Lucius Abraxas Malfoy – your humble servant."_

"Ha!" Humble was the last word anyone would ever associate with Lucius Malfoy, recently reappointed Hogwarts Governor. Hermione had worked with him on a project to improve international cooperation between magical schools, and reluctantly been impressed. Politically astute to his fingertips, he could weigh up and discard a dozen courses of action in the blink of an eye. Whatever had led him to take the Dark Mark, it certainly hadn't been a lack of intelligence.

She couldn't see what a Malfoy – and _that_ Malfoy, in particular – possibly could want with her in a personal context. Thankfully, he had no Dark Lord to hand her over to this time.

She lingered over the bold strokes of his name, the last (second last) she ever would have expected to see, until she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

" _Should you find yourself able to overlook my deeply regrettable behaviour in the past, I should be delighted to meet with you in the Three Broomsticks, at 8PM this coming Saturday. If not convenient, please let me know by return owl if you wish to make alternative arrangements. Should I not hear from you, I will be waiting there at the appointed time, hoping that you will join me. It would be the most charming surprise if you would be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, despite my past history._

 _I have the honour remain your most faithful and obedient servant,"_

That earned him another "Ha!"

 _Lucius Malfoy_

The signature had finally appeared – a neat trick, if she had been minded to appreciate it. As it was, Hermione was torn between laughter and overwhelming curiosity. He couldn't possibly mean all that – he must be setting her up for something unpleasant. But what? Surely even a former Death Eater must realise attacking a Hogwarts teacher would be the end of all his efforts at rehabilitation?

"Enjoying your correspondence?" Filius asked, and she jumped, dropping the letter to the floor. Filius courteously bent down to retrieve it for her just as she made to grab it, and their hands collided in a jumble of apologies. A long, pale hand snatched the parchment before Hermione could react.

"Thank you, that's mine," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. Severus handed it back to her with a blank face and a minuscule bow, which seemed curiously unlike him. She wanted to say something – she wasn't quite sure what – but just then a bunch of their colleagues walked in, eyes firmly set on their eleven o'clock tea.

The moment was lost among general chatter and the latest exploits of Amanda Watson, the nearest thing they had to the Weasley twins these days. Fortunately, there was only one of her.

* * *

Hermione hesitated for a moment outside the well-sized oak door leading into the Three Broomsticks, but after a deep breath, she pulled down her hood. She wasn't going to do anything unfit for public consumption, so why bother with concealment charms?

She had decided to go. Of course she had. She was Hermione Granger, it would have been utterly unlike her not find out what this was about. Not being an idiot, she had also told Harry who she was meeting; he hadn't been happy, but at least he mostly kept his mouth shut about it (unlike Ron would have done).

It was only as Hermione was pushing the creaking door open it occurred to her that it may have been wise to alert someone who wasn't hundreds miles away as to her whereabouts, but by this point it was too late.

The tall, pale-haired wizard sitting next to the fire rose to greet her, kissing the air next to her cheek. He smelled nice, and expensive. Like the perfume department at Harrod's from the next floor.

"Ms Granger! I'm so glad you decided to join me. Don't tell me – it was a close-run thing, wasn't it?" She noticed that the skin at the corner of his eyes creased, and was surprised. Lucius Malfoy wasn't a man she would have expected to laugh very often.

"Quite," Hermione agreed, sitting down on the wooden stool he'd pulled out for her. "Harry tried his best to dissuade me."

"Quite right. He is, of course, not privy to all the excellent reasons why your presence here is such a splendid idea."

"Neither am I, so why don't you enlighten me?" It was a bit like sparring verbally with Snape, only this time her opponent was smiling and unfailingly polite instead of being, well, Snape. And this man she didn't trust one bit.

"Soon. Let me get you a drink first – what would you like?"

Hermione did a rapid mental review of Rosmerta's limited offerings and decided to err on the side of caution. "Gin and tonic, please."

As soon as Malfoy had excused himself to procure the goods, Hermione had second thoughts. She should have gotten the drinks, not him – she didn't like being beholden to a Malfoy, even if it was for a pittance. And how could she be certain he wasn't putting anything in her glass? When he returned, juggling several glasses and bottles, she was trying to remember if Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction was transparent.

"My apologies. It took some time to locate a suitable glass." He poured tonic over what presumably was gin – Hermione had just recalled Dr Ubbly's concoction had a sickly yellow colour – and pushed one sparkling clear glass her way, keeping one for himself. "Cheers."

"Cheers." Hermione raised her glass in response, but didn't let any liquid past her lips.

"I'm not labouring under any delusions, by the by. I'm well aware I rank slightly above pond scum in your estimation, for most understandable reasons."

"Really." Hermione raised one eyebrow, the way she'd learnt from observing Snape at dozens of staff meetings.

"While I accept this is the status quo, I'm by no means resigned to letting this depressing state of affairs continue."

"I'm sure you aren't," Hermione said when she had deciphered what he meant, not believing a word of it.

It may well have shown on her face, because Malfoy made a little grimace that might have been touching in somebody else's opinion. "The reason I asked you to meet with me here was to assure you that, whatever you may think, my intentions are entirely honourable. Well, almost entirely." He smiled, and Hermione was taken aback. It wasn't the sort of smile you'd expect from Draco Malfoy's father – _anyone's_ father – and it gave her a pleasurable jolt that had no business occurring anywhere near this discussion.

It had been a long time since anyone had looked even remotely lascivious in her presence – perhaps it was just the shock of the unexpected.

"I'm so relieved to hear that." It came out more assuredly than she'd dared hope for, given that her knees still felt weak.

"You still don't believe a word I'm saying, do you? For the avoidance of doubt, let me lay it all out."

Hermione highly doubted that – no Slytherin since Salazar had voluntarily played all their cards at once.

"I find myself attracted to you. You're absolutely committed to your ideals, while possessing a first rate intellect that possibly is wasted at Hogwarts. Yet, you've got the air of a woman completely at peace with her choices in life. I would like to pursue our acquaintance in a purely non-professional way."

Hermione willed herself not to blush. It was rather pleasant to be at the receiving end of some flattery, for once. This is Lucius Malfoy, she told herself sternly. You'd better believe he's got a good reason to butter you up, but it's not because of your pretty eyes.

"What's in it for me, then?" she asked.

"Other than my undying adoration," he started and Hermione spluttered, "the prospect of a dalliance, intelligent conversation, and good wine." He pushed his wineglass to the side. "Be assured I wouldn't normally subject you to a fare of indifferent Australian pub brands."

"I'm so relieved to hear that. What made you commit such a travesty this time?" Hermione couldn't deal with the beginning of his explanation yet, and so was clinging on for dear life to the part she was able to bandy words about.

"I thought you'd be more relaxed in the vicinity of Hogwarts, not to mention in a public space. Isn't that what Muggles advise for those going on blind dates, as they call them?"

Lucius Malfoy apparently being familiar with Muggle dating security was another thing Hermione wasn't willing to deal with right now (although it made a frightening amount of sense, considering that he must have been a widower for ten years now and couldn't exactly let his hair down at the Leaky like most single wizards). Here was, however, the whisker of a motive for their cosy conversation.

"Is that it? You'd like to be seen in my company, to bolster your liberal credentials? I thought the elections weren't until next year." She drained most of her gin and tonic, being fairly sure he hadn't put anything nefarious in it and unwilling to let it go to waste, like most of her evening.

"As I'm not going to stand in any elections, imminent or otherwise, their timing is immaterial. You may have noticed that nobody has bat an eyelid at our presence – it may be coincidence, but it's probably due to my variation on the Notice-Me-Not charm."

Madam Rosmerta would normally come up to any Hogwarts teachers and take up their orders, Hermione remembered – she always told them she couldn't understand how they did their job, so the least she could do was to serve them quickly. Malfoy had walked up to the bar to get them drinks. "Wouldn't be caught dead with the Mudblood, then?"

"Hermione, please." Malfoy put on a suffering expression and lifted the charm; Madam Rosmerta dropped a glass over by the sink when she caught sight of them, startling the other customers.

"Brilliant," she sighed. "That's tomorrow's front page in the _Prophet_ , then." Ron would have a fit. As would Harry, but at least he wouldn't send a Howler.

"I doubt that very much," Lucius smirked, and for a moment he looked just like his son. "The editor and I have an understanding."

"How convenient."

"Unless you would like to give your friends a start, of course. I come prepared for the eventuality." He placed a bouquet of pale pink peonies on the table, causing Hermione's heart to beat wildly. How the _hell_ did he know what her favourite flower was?

Then she remembered the interview with _Witch Weekly_ she'd agreed to do when Harry launched his Hogwarts Orphan Fund, and relaxed. She had refused to answer most of the questions ("Is it true Mr Ronald Weasley broke up your engagement when he found out you didn't want to have children?"), but some of them had been innocuous. Or so she had thought at the time.

"Thank you. I think I'll give it a miss, though. I'm busy tomorrow, so I'd prefer not having to deal with an avalanche of letters wondering if I've finally lost my mind."

"As you wish. Please keep the flowers, however." He shrank the bouquet to the size of a lime, and Hermione let it slip into her pocket. Why not? Malfoy wasn't exactly poor, and she'd already shown bad judgement meeting him. She may as well get something tangible out of it.

* * *

Back at the castle, Hermione returned the flowers to their usual size and plonked them in a vase. As she prepared her books and notes for the morning, her eyes constantly returned to the perfectly formed peonies, just on the cusp of being in full bloom. They were exquisite, but it wasn't that.

The little bunch of flowers placed in the jumble of notes and essays on her desk was an extravagance, something just for fun. Just like meeting Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione didn't trust him an inch, despite all his flowery declarations, but now that she'd made it back to her chambers safely she decided it didn't matter. She just needed something to remind her she wasn't just a professor, and that she wasn't quite Minerva's age just yet (although that didn't mean one couldn't have a love life, if her observations of what her old professors got up to was any indication).

Being the object of Lucius Malfoy's attentions, whatever his hidden motives might be, was a nice distraction from the mundanity of everyday life. Hermione decided to enjoy it for the moment and worry about the implications later.


	3. Summer Pleasures

**Chapter 3**

 **Summer Pleasures**

 **-oOo-**

It turned out to be fortunate that Hermione had agreed to meet Malfoy again the following weekend. Severus was in a thundering mood all week, raining retribution on any students daring to step out of line. As usual when he wasn't 'quite himself', as Filius benignly put it, he avoided the staff room like the plague, but the Deputy Head left his mark on the castle all the same. Perhaps it was because he was Headmaster at one time – somehow, the variations in his mood seemed to reverberate everywhere within its walls, even when he wasn't in the room.

The third time a student burst into tears at the thought of their impending O.W.L.s, Hermione decided enough was enough. Something had to be done.

Usually, she was pretty good at figuring out what was ailing Severus, but this time she didn't even know where to start. He had avoided her for days – she couldn't even remember him saying anything cutting about the letter from Malfoy. Given how much he'd had to say on the subject previously, she was surprised he had passed up on the opportunity.

Seeking him out in his office would provide him with a chance to make snide remarks, which would cheer him up, and Hermione might be able to find out what had sent him off this time.

The last time, it had been the release of Rita Skeeter's book _The Secret Life of Severus Snape_ , so while Hermione didn't hold with grown men sulking, she did recognise he had more to bear than most.

"I know you're in here," she announced her presence. His office was gloomy as usual, and Hermione waved her wand to light a cheerful fire and make the atmosphere less funeral like.

"Are you also familiar with the conventions associated with locking one's door?" Severus was sitting at his desk, so he couldn't very well deny he was in, but he looked down his nose at her like she was an unusually disappointing specimen.

Hermione wasn't used to having that look directed at her; not these days.

"I decided to ignore it, in the name of finding out what's got you in a mood." Sometimes, being direct worked a treat.

"Nothing, except unwelcome visitors." He hadn't raised his head from the pile of marking he was steadily working his way through.

Then again, sometimes you had to take a different approach.

"The ceiling in the Great Hall looks like a wet week in Skegness, even though it's the most glorious spring day outside. That only happens when you're out of sorts." She hadn't realised until Halloween had coincided with a week of Indian Summer a few years ago.

Severus glanced up at her briefly, and she was taken aback by the hint of despair in the hollow sockets of his eyes. In recent years, she had become used to him being, if not full of _joie de vivre_ , then at least reasonably content.

"Severus –" she started, stretching her hand out towards him.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, and her back was slammed against the door in a spontaneous burst of magic that left him as shocked as it did her. "Forgive me," he said immediately, rushing over to her as she struggled to pull some air back into her lungs:

"It's all right. Seriously," Hermione said more confidently as she got her breath back. "Don't do it again, though."

"I'm sorry." Severus Snape was severely rattled if he apologised twice.

"I did break down your wards to get in here, so let's call us even. I'll even do you a favour and leave you alone to wallow in your misery again." Hermione did attempt to temper her tendency to assume she knew what was best for people, but this time she seemed to have misstepped badly.

She felt utterly stupid as she made it back to her chambers; stupid and powerless. So much for thinking she was special, tuned in to Severus' thoughts like nobody else – it was almost like the house-elf campaign all over again.

It was a relief to find Severus marginally more cheerful the following day, almost like he made a determined effort to pull himself together. The Great Hall reverted to reflecting the weather outside, and conversation in the staffroom turned to the upcoming exams.

Hermione had almost forgotten about her meeting – assignation? Date, Merlin help her? - with Lucius Malfoy, and had to excuse herself after the first course at dinner Saturday night.

"Don't be back too late, Hermione – Argus will be waiting up!" Rolanda hollered after her, after shielding the innocent ears of the students with a Silencing Charm, and most of the staff laughed. Hermione turned around to wave to them cheerfully once she was out of the students' view, and was taken aback by the expression on Severus' face. Or the lack of it, rather.

Puzzling over what could be the matter with him distracted her from appreciating the finer points of the exquisite menu Lucius had chosen, as far from stodgy school fare as you could get. Hermione didn't realise she'd been responding in monosyllables until halfway through the main course.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately once he'd finished his anecdote about Augusta Longbottom's reaction to the new wand legislation. "I was distracted because…Well, I'm a bit concerned about a friend, but I'll be better now."

Lucius smiled, and for once it looked completely non-calculated. "This would be the famous Gryffindor honesty I've heard about. I must admit straightforwardness can be quite refreshing. I assume you won't share your concerns with me?"

The temptation was sore, seeing as being friends with Severus was about the only thing they had in common. Lucius would know so many things about him Hermione could only guess at. Still, she regretfully declined – she couldn't imagine anything Severus would hate more than being the subject of discussion behind his back.

"In that case, permit me to attempt to take your mind off it," Lucius offered gallantly. "This excellent elf-made Bordeaux should make short shrift of the most persistent worries."

"I'll give it a go, then." Hermione seemed to have forgotten her self-imposed rule on being careful with what she was drinking around Malfoy, but the only sinister effects was a persistent headache the following morning.

"Big night?" Neville asked at breakfast, sliding her a glass of water across the table. Hermione drank it gratefully, wishing she'd stuck to the gin and tonic instead – she wasn't exactly twenty anymore. Or thirty.

"Not too bad – I was back before midnight. Regular Cinderella I am."

"Who?" It was all too easy to forget Neville was as pure-blood as the Malfoys.

"Never mind," Hermione reassured him, digging around for the aspirin she was sure she'd put in her bag before going down.

"Allow me." A pale, familiar hand placed a dark vial next to her untouched pumpkin juice, and Hermione sat up so quickly she felt a little dizzy.

"Thanks," she managed.

Severus actually pulled up the corner of his mouth in something like a smile. "You're not nineteen anymore, you know."

"Thank you for pointing that out." She threw the contents of the vial down her throat, and shuddered as it burnt its way down her oesophagus.

"I would also advocate some caution before drinking unidentified potions."

Hermione grimaced at him as the potion took effect, but her head was already feeling clearer. "I have full confidence in my Potions supplier."

"You're clearly unfamiliar with my work for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"On the contrary – I suggested it to them." George had been more receptive than Ron, but the latter had eventually been won over by Hermione pointing out that Snape's ability with potions could earn them a lot of money. Judging by Ron's grumbling, quite a few of those Galleons made their way into Severus' pockets, which had been her original intention.

"Then I will not entertain any complaints when you transform into a canary in front of your fourth years."

Hermione wouldn't even have minded, so thankful was she that they were back on normal terms again. It had been hard enough to persuade Severus to give her a chance in the first place, and he was precious to her. Being on the outs with him was like having an earache – there was a constant niggle somewhere between her shoulder blades. She couldn't even relax completely in bed, despite the long days teaching students who even Filius had to admit could be remarkably dunderheaded sometimes.

Seeing a hint of a smile in his dark eyes made even the prospect of Monday's double lesson with the fourth years palatable.

They drudged on through the last term before the summer break, teachers and students both reaching the limits of their endurance before being mercifully released into the wild. Hermione put everything except her Tuesdays with Harry and Ron on hold until then, and Lucius seemed resigned to being ruled non-essential until the first week of July. They had a picnic in Hyde Park in May, surrounded by a sea of daffodils, but afterwards she didn't see him for several weeks.

He did send her an owl to enquire about her plans for Midsummer's Eve, but Hermione returned it with her regrets. For once, they were entirely insincere. On Midsummer's Eve she harvested potion ingredients with Severus. They had a standing arrangement which had now been running for several years. She wasn't going to be the one to break it.

They met at the front steps of the castle, and set out for the Forbidden Forest straight away. The students had departed the previous night, but Hermione still twitched as soon as a nocturnal animal stirred in the vicinity. Long evenings were not good news when you were responsible for hundreds of teenagers.

Once they reached the edge of the forest she relaxed, and started noticing the wonders of summer in the North. It wasn't quite dark, more like a rather cloudy day. Bushes and trees were hopping with life determined to make the most of the short summer. The scent of a dozen fragrant flowers hung in the air, changing subtly with every step.

You didn't have to be a witch to appreciate the magic of midsummer.

Ream after ream of delicate Lily of the Valley went into Hermione's scruffy old beaded bag, and they cleansed their hands carefully of its poison before tackling a nearby hawthorn tree. Conversation was strictly utilitarian the first few hours. Hermione was so concentrated on the pleasant repetitiveness of her task that Snape had to repeat himself twice before she heard him.

"I said, I'm surprised you're not at Malfoy Manor. They've been lighting a bonfire to celebrate the summer solstice since the Romans." He chopped off another branch of mistletoe with his goblin made silver knife, and Hermione held her bag open.

"That's why Lucius invited me, then. I said I had plans already, so I didn't find out more. I would have thought you would have gone – isn't there a Herbaria plant on the estate?"

"I had a prior engagement, too." He cleaned a drop of sap from the blade, and prepared to cut again. "Ready?"

The silence between them seemed warmer, as if Snape was as pleased as Hermione was to be chosen first. As she often had during the past few months, she wondered about the friendship between Severus and Lucius. Superficially, they had a lot in common, but once you looked beyond the smooth surface she found it hard to picture them sharing confidences.

Sometimes, Lucius let fall a snippet or two about his old schoolfriend, and Hermione tried her best not to hang at his very word. She never asked; it would be rather tasteless to use someone who professed to pursuing her to gain information about another man, whether she believed his interest was sincere or not. Besides, Harry had done enough to spread Severus' most intimate secrets to a large part of the wizarding world – Hermione had no desire to violate his privacy again, no matter how much she wanted to know.

It was hardly any wonder Severus could be prickly, considering what he'd had to put up with. Admittedly, that had been at least half of his initial attraction – Hermione was constitutionally incapable of leaving a mystery well alone, and Severus Snape was as hard to unravel as they came. She had spent the better part of a term listening intently whenever he spoke. When she finally decided to strike, she had enough to go on to select subjects he was actually interested in to prevent him from cutting their conversations short.

It took a long time, but eventually he even started seeking her out in the staffroom sometimes. Admittedly, Sybill was the only other teacher who had Friday mornings off that term, but it still felt like a victory.

Becoming friends with Snape had unintended consequences for which Hermione had been entirely unprepared. She should perhaps have seen it coming; given her history of championing the oppressed, it wasn't surprising she would sympathise with him. Regardless, the realisation had hit her like a Bludger from behind (she had spent enough time waiting for Ginny at the Quidditch field since she'd signed up with the Harpies to know what that felt like) on a wet Thursday in October, a few years ago.

By then it had been far too late, and she had made the best of her affliction ever since.

It was, of course, out of the question to actually do anything about it. Hermione may be a Gryffindor, but she knew a hopeless cause when she saw one. Better to appreciate what she had than jeopardise it.

Hermione plodded along, taking her pleasures where she could find them. If even Lucius Malfoy thought she seemed happy with her lot, she must be doing something right.


	4. Kneazle Among The Pigeons

**Chapter 4**

 **Kneazle Among The Pigeons**

 **-oOo-**

"To the summer holidays!" Lucius raised his glass, and Hermione joined him gladly. "I haven't appreciated them properly since I left school, so it is time I give them their due."

"Parents usually hail them with a little less enthusiasm than us teachers." The champagne was excellent, but she hadn't expected anything less.

"I can't imagine you being too keen on leaving school behind, either, from what Draco told me over the years." This was new. So far, Lucius had made it clear he regretted his past (or so he said, anyway), but they had steered clear of discussing anything that might turn controversial.

Hermione snorted. "It's probably best you don't know what I told my parents about Draco."

"Most of that was my fault." He let his finger follow the curve of the glass all the way down to the tablecloth, his eyes caught somewhere in the past. "If I hadn't filled his head with lies and delusions of grandeur, chances are he would have ended up on the right side. He never believed in the Dark Lord in his heart of hearts, you know."

Hermione's throat was suddenly dry, despite the aftertaste of the champagne still lingering. "But you did?"

She had to ask. In this moment, with the light of the setting July sun turning his hair into molten gold, Lucius seemed softer and sadder than she ever had seen him, and she finally believed she was allowed to see the man as he actually was.

"Oh, yes." The bitterness in his voice was new, too. "Hook, line and sinker. I didn't even stop to consider why our glorious leader didn't account for his own parentage. All I could see was that our position was under threat. Not for one second did I doubt that I was entitled to take whatever I wanted."

For once in her life Hermione didn't ask any questions. She simply waited, the silence punctuated only by the sleepy buzz of bumblebees settling in for the night.

Her patience was rewarded when he continued, unprompted. "Even in our stupidity, we could see that the world as we knew it was under threat from the Muggles. They seemed to encroach everywhere, getting more numerous every year. We didn't see Muggle-borns as our key to understanding the Muggle world, but rather as another threat to our very existence." Lucius threw back the contents of his glass, as if to clear a bad taste from his mouth. "To my younger self, responding to the threat with world domination seemed perfectly logical. I can only hope Draco inherited Narcissa's brains, or we can kiss the next generation goodbye."

Hermione laughed, despite herself. "I can give you the verdict when Scorpius starts at Hogwarts in a few years."

"Do." Lucius smiled, looking like himself again – or at least the version Hermione had got used to over the last few months.

* * *

"Here he is, our boy! How was Bognor Regis?" Filius pulled out a chair for Severus, beaming with honest pleasure, and the latter couldn't very well turn him down.

"Wet." Snape shrugged off his cloak, drops of rain still clinging to the folds.

"And the Potioneers' conference?" Hermione asked from her place on the other side of the table, pushing the teapot towards him.

"Dull. The same faces, only older." He looked around for the sugar tin – usually Minerva was hogging it, but she was currently enjoying the Mediterranean sunshine and had surrendered her claim temporarily.

"Good thing you were there to cheer them up, eh?" Rolanda said.

"I did demolish Hawkins' latest theory about asphodel acting as a binder. The man is an imbecile."

"There you go. Maybe there'll be one less face next year, then."

Severus glared at Rolanda, but the whole staffroom could tell he was only pretending to be annoyed. The missing sugar had been located beneath Filius' newspaper. Severus' shoulder relaxed visibly as he drank his tea, complete with three teaspoons of sugar. Hermione released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Finally things were entirely as they should be.

"Ho! What's this, Hermione?" Filius had returned to his paper, and apparently found something he thought deserved a wider audience.

"What is what?" She didn't think she had done anything to end up in the paper recently, but then it was silly season. Last year they'd done a two-page spread on what Harry was wearing to the beach, to his disgust.

"I didn't realise you had a new fling – Lucius Malfoy, no less! Not who I would have assumed you'd pick, but then you always came with a dash of the unexpected."

Filius spread out his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the table for everyone to see, open at the headline "Ex-Death Eater and Gryffindor's Golden Girl – Malfoy Snares Granger!" In smaller print it said "Auror Office Denies Rumours Of Unforgivables – Has Potter's Best Friend Finally Lost Her Marbles?"

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Hermione said, but she was drowned out by the reaction of her colleagues.

"Brilliant! They've gone completely around the bend this time." Rolanda tried to snatch the paper, but Poppy was pulling hard in the other direction.

"'Spotted leaving a select establishment' – have you been to Watt's, Hermione? What was it like? Do they really have a geyser in the bathroom, like it said in _Witch Weekly_?"

Poppy was a fast reader, but Filius got a head start. "They've got lots of details, you'd get a small fortune if you take them to court for libel. Next year's holiday fund, guaranteed!"

"I doubt that. One generally has to prove allegations have no foundation in fact, and our esteemed colleague is hardly in a position to do so." Severus hadn't joined the scramble, but he still seemed to know exactly what the article said.

"You mean it's _true_?" For some reason, Rolanda was turning to Severus rather than Hermione for confirmation.

"That I've been meeting Lucius Malfoy? Yes, it is." Hermione tried to reclaim some initiative, but it was far too late. Imagining a version of the same discussion playing out at the breakfast table across the wizarding world, she winced. It wasn't that she cared what people thought – she just didn't care for them to dissect her private life over their morning cuppa.

Poppy looked at her, aghast. "But I thought –"

"Yes, yes, he's a big bad Death Eater." Hermione cut across Severus, who probably was itching to throw about a stinging remark concerning her poor taste in men. "Reformed, but still. I've clearly got a problem with the lack of excitement in my life, but what's a woman to do? I just didn't expect it to be plastered all over the _Prophet_."

"You didn't think anyone would be interested in Hermione Granger hanging out with Lucius Malfoy?" Sarah Fawcett had only been teaching Ancient Runes for a few years, but she wasn't stupid.

"I didn't think they would find out," Hermione clarified, trying to redeem herself somewhat. She wondered what had happened to Lucius' understanding with the editor.

Finally, she became aware of the owl picking at her elbow, and absently fed it half a sausage as she untied a letter with familiar handwriting from its leg.

 _My very dear Ms Granger,_

 _I'm afraid the dragon is out of the cave – the summer staff at the Prophet seem to have been improperly briefed, and decided to publish without consulting their editor. Rest assured I will ensure they will be damned for their impudence._

 _My sincere apologies for any inconvenience this may cause you. Should you desire to issue a public denial, I will arrange for a suitable witch to come forward and confirm she had been taking Polyjuice Potion before appearing with me in public._

 _I will not permit this unfortunate incident to restrict your options in any way, and I sincerely hope you will not accord it a moment's thought beyond brief amusement at the folly of your fellow wizards, who seem to attach such weight to someone's dinner arrangements._

 _Yours (as ever)_

 _L_

Hermione was painfully aware of five sets of eyes observing her every move (the excitement had passed Hagrid completely by, as he tucked into his third mountain of eggs and bacon). She rose abruptly, mumbling something about lesson plans, and almost ran out of the room. It wasn't until she reached the sanctity of her office – thank heavens no students were around – that she had the leisure to unpick why Lucius' missive had her in tears. She blew her nose loudly, to signal a return to her normal prosaic self, and _thought_.

It was the kindness in his letter that got to her. His concern was tangible, and the proffered solution would surely turn him into a laughing stock if it went ahead, as well as getting him into trouble with the Ministry of Magic. A former Death Eater having someone impersonating a war hero would certainly get their backs up.

If Lucius was sincere, it changed everything.

She suddenly noticed that the daylight had gone, and looked out the window. Normally Hermione had a nice view of the lake, but today her large bay window was obscured by a mass of feathers and claws. Apparently the rest of the wizarding world had been reading their morning paper, too.

Further introspection would have to wait as she braced herself for the onslaught. This wasn't the first time; Affronted in Aberystwyth and Disgusted in Scunthorpe had made their views known when she broke up with Ron. She could only imagine what they had to say about her apparent decision to replace him with Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

"May I?" Hermione peeked around the door into the Potions classroom, where Severus was busy rearranging the glass jars lining the wall, banishing any dust with his wand as he went along. These last ten years, he had only been teaching the six- and seventh-years, but it was still very much his classroom. Pettever, who taught the younger students, wouldn't do anything as rash as dusting without Severus' approval.

"Since when do you bother to ask?" He still had his back turned to her. Most of the jars which he suddenly seemed hell bent on organising had been there when Hermione started at Hogwarts, so they couldn't be that interesting.

"I want to ask you for a favour." Hermione learnt years ago to use her own strengths rather than trying to out-Slytherin the Head of Slytherin. Even so, it had taken her three cups of tea to build up the courage for a trip to the dungeons.

"I'm not going to replace you on the Parent Outreach committee, so don't bother asking. Wasting my youth on this institution comes with precious few perks. I'm not giving up any of them." Severus turned slightly, giving her an excellent profile view of his hooked nose.

"It's to do with the business at breakfast." During term time, when mealtimes constituted less of a social occasion and more of an exercise in constant vigilance and attempts to spot whatever idiocy the students were up to that day, Hermione came down here at least once a week. Ordinarily, her declared purpose was intelligent conversation, not favours, so of course Severus already knew she wanted something.

Faced with stony silence, she continued. "Would you mind very much if I asked you to find out what –" Was there no way of putting it that didn't make it sound like she was living in a Regency novel? – "What Lucius' intentions are? If he's actually serious." The squished head of the pickled dormouse she had chosen to stare at, rather than facing Severus, appeared mildly disapproving.

It was nothing compared to the look of distaste on Severus' face. "You want me to find out if Lucius Malfoy is seriously contemplating matrimony with a Muggle-born?"

His definition of 'serious' wasn't quite what Hermione had in mind – she had not considered the remote possibility of becoming Mrs Malfoy. Or Ms. "I'm not sure I want to find out about that. All I'd like to know if he actually cares about me, or if he's just pretending."

Severus seemed to soften a smidgen, if the way he allowed his back to unstiffen was any indication. "I assume clarifying the issue between the two of you without my involvement isn't an option?"

"Trust me, I would not be here if that was the case. It would have been so easy if he'd been a Gryffindor – I could just have asked him." Hermione kicked the work table next to her vehemently. "Why do you Slytherins have to be so bloody difficult?" Being childish felt good.

"Ah. And your relationship with Ronald Weasley worked out so well, didn't it?" Dry amusement replaced the withering scorn of a few minutes ago, much to Hermione's relief. She didn't know exactly what his relationship with Lucius was, and the last thing she wanted was to make Severus reconsider letting her be his friend. She had fought long and hard to get him to let her in and it had been worth it, despite the unforeseen side effects.

"At least I didn't get Harry to ask him if he fancied me, like a thirteen-year-old. I didn't even do that when we were thirteen, mind you."

"Such an attractive child you were, too."

Severus was pushing old buttons, but Hermione wasn't going to descend to tit-for-tat today. "Will you do it, then? Please."

He sighed. "Against my better judgement, yes. In the vain hope that it keeps you off the front page for a few days. Poor Potter will be feeling neglected."

"Thank you!" Hermione would have given him a hug, but he pushed his elbows out and returned to his specimen jars, making it clear that such affection was entirely unwanted.

* * *

If she had returned to the classroom just five minutes after her departure, she would have been startled.

Severus Snape was sitting at the left worktable at the front, his head buried in his hands. When he looked up, incidentally at the same dormouse that had caught Hermione's attention earlier, there was a stricken expression on his face. He seemed to have aged a decade since breezing in from Bognor Regis at breakfast. Minerva would have recognised the determination on his face from the war, even though she had misinterpreted it as bigoted zeal back then.

Severus Snape was again resolved to do his duty, no matter what it cost him.

* * *

Hermione spent an enjoyable long weekend with her parents, discussing gardening and pretending the wizarding world didn't exist. It was oddly restful, but the jolt of magic that hit her when she picked up her wand again reminded her how lucky she was to be able to return where she belonged.

Hogwarts in its summer best was a sight generally reserved for its teachers. Hermione truly appreciated her good fortune as she walked up to the front door from the Apparition spot at the gates. Swallows dived from the battlements, snatching flies mid-flight, and rogue daisies decorated the lawn, despite Minerva's complaints that they made it look 'untidy'. Hermione happened to know that Neville had a soft spot for the little white spots in the grass, and refused to get rid of them completely with his Weed-Killing Charm.

As if to make her return perfect, Severus was waiting for her on the doorstep. Or at least, he happened to be standing there, his back to the reassuringly thick stone wall, watching the swallows fly against the deep blue sky.

"Evening, Potions Master."

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Even his attempt to wind her up felt like a confirmation that she was home again. "How are you, then? Any more conferences lined up?"

"None I'm invited to."

"At least you got to go to the Potioneers' one – apparently the Arithmancy Symposium was far too expensive for our budget." Hermione had argued, but Minerva hadn't budged. The fact that it was held in Venice hadn't helped her case.

He smirked. "Seniority has its perks."

"Tell me about it, Deputy Headmaster. It won't be me bringing in the first-years from the boats, at least. Four weeks from now, isn't it?"

"You had to go and spoil it, Granger, didn't you? The best day of the year, and you had to remind me of the students." He took a deep breath, and if she hadn't known better she would have guessed he was trying to suck as much of the sweet smell of cow parsley and mowed grass into his lungs as possible, to have something to remember when the winter winds made the castle sway gently.

"I won't do it again." She leaned back against the wall, feeling the heat conserved by the stone settle in her bones. They silently stood side by side for a long time, neither of them mentioning Lucius Malfoy, the status of Charms as a discipline vs. Potions, or any other subjects that could spoil this perfect moment, until Poppy appeared and broke the spell.

Amongst her chatter, Hermione Levitated her bag into the castle, and Severus disappeared towards the dungeons. There would be time tomorrow to find out if he had any answers for her; until then, she would simply enjoy being back home.

* * *

 **One chapter left; I'll post it next Friday.**


	5. The Heat Is On

**Chapter 5**

 **The Heat Is On**

 **-oOo-**

Hermione didn't need to seek Severus out; he came to her office as she was still going through her post, separating missives from anxious parents and letters from complete strangers concerned with her private life. She watched the letter she'd just finished evaporate in a cloud of smoke with pleasure – just because she had been headline fodder since she was a teenager didn't mean anyone and their Hippogriff had the right to dissect her love life.

"I usually just respond to dunderheaded questions with a strongly-worded letter – I didn't think a member of the Parent Outreach committee would resort to fire charms." Suddenly Severus was leaning against the doorframe – Hermione hadn't even noticed him coming in. So much for battle-hardened reflexes. Then again, Hogwarts would often open locked doors for its previous Headmaster of its own accord.

"This one is from Ron's Great Aunt Muriel. I haven't kept in touch, but she's unlikely to have young children." Hermione scanned the contents. "She's calling me a Jezebel, and a scarlet woman. Very biblical."

"She's the fire and brimstones type, if I recall correctly. Allow me." Severus flicked his wand, and the letter ignited, fading as quickly as it started. "She will be pleased to hear that you can look forward to a future as Mrs Malfoy, rendering your position entirely respectable. Even pure-bloods enjoy courting before marriage." His voice sounded brittle, but Hermione was too shocked to really notice. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears and she felt lightheaded.

"Bollocks," she managed to squeeze out.

"No, they do. I was in Slytherin during the late Seventies, I know everything there is to know about pure-blood courting etiquette." Snape reached for the next letter in her pile, scanning it quickly. "Mrs Longbottom thinks you should be careful, but no doubt you know your own business. Why bother writing, then?"

Hermione concentrated on breathing in, then on breathing out. "If I'd had any idea this was how it was going to pan out, I would have returned the bloody brooch unopened."

"Surely you cannot have been naïve enough not to appreciate how the wizarding world would react to seeing their precious war heroine associating with Malfoy the Elder?" She didn't like it when he sneered at her; it brought back the wrong sort of memories.

"It's not that," Hermione explained, irritated with both Severus and herself. "I don't give a fig what anyone thinks, Rita Skeeter saw to that a long time ago. It's Lucius I'm concerned about."

"I'm quite certain Lucius has been on the receiving end of enough bad publicity to see this storm in a teacup for what it is." He Incendio'd another letter; this time the flames almost hit the ceiling.

"Would you stop being wilfully obtuse? I'm trying to have a serious discussion here." Hermione snatched the next letter up for incineration from him before he burnt the castle down.

"So am I – didn't you read the _Prophet_ when Lucius was released after the war? They published a colour supplement with his supposed misdeeds. Most of which were actually perpetrated by Macnair, if I recall correctly. Lucius never got his hands dirty if he could avoid it." Severus inched closer to the pile of unsorted mail on her desk, but Hermione put her hand over it to protect it. There might be something she actually wanted to read in there. Possibly.

"That makes it worse, then." She sucked on her lips, trying to figure out how she'd ended up in this mess. "The last thing I ever thought I'd have to worry about is hurting Lucius Malfoy's feelings. Only goes to show, doesn't it?"

"You what?" Two red spots burned bright on Severus' cheeks, and Hermione studied them with interest. What in the world had gotten him so agitated?

"I suppose it's good, in the greater scheme of things. Dumbledore would have approved."

That name took Severus by surprise; usually she maintained a diplomatic silence on the subject. "Believe me," he said bitterly, "there is nothing in this affair that he would have approved of, except possibly my part."

"What part would that be? I can't recall you saying anything." Which definitely wasn't like him, come to think of it.

"It's coming up now, so pay attention. Can I take your dimwitted comment to mean that you're intending to turn Lucius down?"

"Well, yes." Hermione stared at him; surely that had been fairly obvious from the outset, especially for someone used to spying? She knew she wasn't very good at subtlety – Severus made sure to remind her whenever an occasion presented itself.

"The only reason you wanted me to have an excruciatingly awkward conversation about his motives was so that you wouldn't hurt his _feelings_?"

"Yes." Hermione refused to let him bully her into thinking she had been unreasonable. Being friends with the Head of Slytherin should come with some perks – she would do the same for him. The fact that she knew it never would happen didn't matter.

"You are not, in fact, going to continue the courtship?" He looked acutely uncomfortable – it was probably being forced to ask a direct question. Still, he seemed curiously wrong-footed – like he had been screwing himself up for something it hadn't materialised. Severus must really have believed she was picturing herself as the next Mrs Malfoy.

"I wouldn't call it that, seeing as I don't live in a bad romance novel. But no, I'm not." It would be a wrench – flirting with Lucius Malfoy had been surprisingly enjoyable, and now it was back to being a single woman heading towards her forties on her tod again.

"Are you mad?"

That brought her up short. "Not the last time I checked."

"Then why would the fact that his affections are engaged," – There he went with the archaic language again. Was it a Slytherin thing? – "mean that you put an end to the whole thing? Even Longbottom has noticed you've been less glum lately." Apparently, Severus did speak to Neville – providing it was about her.

Something hot and angry was threatening to burst in Hermione's chest, and it certainly wasn't affection for the meddling tosspot in front of her. "There's one thing I'd like you to explain to me," she said with her sweetest smile.

"That could be arranged." He looked down his long nose at her, and her wand arm itched.

"What makes you think that my decisions are any of your business?" Hermione realised her mistake as soon as she had said it. "Thanks for your help, obviously." It took all her composure to grind it out graciously through gritted teeth. "But I really think my affairs will be better conducted by myself alone."

"Clearly not, if the quality of your decision-making is anything to go by." Through the mist of rage descending upon her – no one could rile her up like Snape, not even Ron – she noticed an odd look in his eyes.

In another man she would have assumed it was despair, but what could Severus Snape be so despondent about? By his own admission, he was quite happy pursuing his own research while teaching Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts to the older students. Hermione Granger's poor excuse for a love life certainly didn't keep him awake at night.

"Well, guess what? Your opinion is neither sought nor required, so you can sod off." Hermione stood up abruptly, covering the floor with a flood of yet to be unincinerated letters. "Good day, Deputy Headmaster."

He rose and bowed to her, leaving a fuming Hermione in his wake. She had never seen a supercilious bow before, but there was no mistaking it. How dare he poke his big nose in her business, without so much as a by-your-leave?

If she hadn't already felt like a complete failure over the whole business, having Severus adding his two Knut's worth ensured Hermione was left contemplating simply getting another twenty cats, a remote cottage and just get it over with. Her ultimate destiny was now a question of when, rather than if, and while there wasn't anything wrong with being a crazy cat lady, she had been dreaming about something rather different.

Well, hadn't that been silly of her.

It was a lot easier to be angry with Severus than lamenting her own propensity for hopeless dreams, so anger it was. She set another letter on fire without even opening it – fortunately, there was an endless supply. Owls were still delivering more.

* * *

Nightfall failed signally to bring wiser counsel, and it was a righteously infuriated Hermione who descended to breakfast. Her hair was impossible, as it always was when she was upset. It was useful, in that her colleagues knew to keep their distance, but she didn't especially like telegraphing her state of mind to anyone who looked at her.

In this instance she needn't have worried, as Severus was absent from his place at the high table. It was tempting to interpret it as an admission that he had been in the wrong. Unfortunately, she was well aware he would have made sure to turn up and appear convinced of his own righteousness if that were the case. Nothing about Severus Snape was uncomplicated.

When he didn't show up for lunch either, Hermione's anger ran out of fumes. It was stupid, but she needed to see him, to make sure they were still friends.

Severus probably had an appointment outside Hogwarts, and she'd end up looking like a right tit barging in looking for him as if she hadn't seen him for weeks rather than only a day, but suddenly Hermione didn't care. She needed an eyeful of glowering resentment tightly wrapped up in black robes. If she had to put up with another lecture on her poor decision-making, that was a price she was willing to pay.

* * *

 **Sorry, I was wrong - I'd completely forgotten about this chapter, so I've still one left. Until next week, then...**


	6. Never Try To Out-Slytherin A Slytherin

**Chapter 6**

 **Never Attempt To Out-Slytherin A Slytherin**

 **-oOo-**

Hermione hesitated for several minutes outside the door to Severus' office (an additional bonus of the students being absent – there was no way she would have risked them noticing Professor Granger screwing up her courage during term time). Eventually, she decided to knock, despite almost-certain embarrassment waiting on the other side. Maybe she was lucky. Maybe he had gone to Scarbourough to get Potions supplies.

Maybe he was staring right at her, like she was a particularly disappointing Doxy egg.

"I see you haven't been called away on urgent business," Hermione blurted out like an idiot.

Severus motioned for her to come in, which was promising. "Should I have been? Did Potter unleash Wizarding War III, and needs me to save his arse again?"

"Not that I know of." She knew better than to defend Harry. "You didn't come down for lunch."

"I didn't realise my attendance was being monitored. By my subordinate, no less." There were lines on his face that hadn't been there yesterday, and the shadows under his eyes seemed to have grown darker recently. Hermione did a quick mental review of the date – there were no anniversaries she could think of, but these things were so unpredictable. The scent of lilac had made her want to cry for years before she realised it was because of all the funerals she had gone to after the battle of Hogwarts.

"I should apologise." She pulled a chair up to his desk – a comfortable armchair, not one of the dreadful ones he kept for students.

"I'm sure you're right. Is it a blanket apology for being an interfering busybody, or did you have a specific offence in mind?" Severus tapped his wand on his desk, and a tea tray appeared. The smoky scent of her favourite tea reminded Hermione to pay attention to his actions, not his words.

"It was unfair of me to ask you for help, and then get angry when you tried to give advice." It seemed obvious even to her, in retrospect.

"Quite. Milk?" The complete absence of gloating was curious.

"Not today, thanks." Hermione nabbed one of the biscuits – shortbread. She felt it ought to tell her something about his state of mind, but she couldn't figure out what.

They drank their tea in companionable silence, and Hermione should have been relieved to return to the comfortable status quo, and yet, couldn't shake off the feeling that she was missing something.

Apparently, Severus felt the same.

"Seeing as you were utterly in the wrong yesterday," – and here came the gloating – "could you indulge my curiosity, if I admit it is none of my business?" It was so rare that he asked her a direct question – and a personal one no less – that Hermione agreed, just to find out what he was curious about.

"Just this time, then. And I'm glad you agree with me," she said primly, taking the last shortbread.

"Even Hagrid has noticed you've been less of a termagant lately. What earthly reason could you have to discourage Lucius when you clearly enjoyed his attentions?"

Damn him and his bloody tongue. Termagant, indeed? Like he was one to talk. "Aren't we observant?" she said surlily, playing for time before she decided the truth would do just as well as any other answer. It wasn't as if he cared, anyway. "How would you put it? My affections are engaged elsewhere." A regular Elizabeth Bennet she was.

His lips disappeared in a narrow band of disapproval, and Hermione's heart started beating on double time. He couldn't have guessed, surely? She couldn't – she just couldn't bear it if he threw it back into her face.

"I see." He rose abruptly, sweeping his robes around him like a cloak of darkness, and the cup of tea disappeared out of her hand as he Vanished the tea accoutrements. "I trust you can see yourself out? I've urgent business in Diagon Alley this evening."

"Sure," Hermione told the empty room as the faint crack of his Apparition died away. She sighed. Even if she lived until she was two hundred, she wouldn't be able to figure him out.

* * *

It was the first time Hermione set foot at Malfoy Manor since – since that other time she wasn't going to think about now. The war was over; it had been over a long time, and she was here for a completely different reason.

Her nineteen-year-old self would have found her current dilemma incomprehensible, and, as much as Hermione was confident in her own decisions, there was an odd trembling in her knees, suggesting that her body hadn't forgotten what had happened on her previous visit. She caught a glance of her pale face - this morning the sun had given way to the all-too-familiar heavy clouds – in a mirror above the gilded fireplace, and for a moment she thought it was a ghost. A ghost of times gone by, at least.

"Hermione – what a pleasure!" Lucius greeted her with outstretched hands and a smile in his eyes, and she was pulled back to the present. Here was someone who was nothing like he had been then – did it matter that the location was the same?

Probably, considering that she studiously had avoided visiting the Manor until she no longer could avoid it.

"Lucius, I'm glad to see you." She kissed the air near his cheek, thankfully missing his ear with half an inch, and was brought into a conservatory filled with as much light as the grey day afforded. Exotic plants climbed to the sunroof, the profusion of greenery barely leaving space for a dainty-looking table and two spindly chairs. She was installed in one and offered tea before she had time to find her bearings, and barely had time to appreciate the flesh-eating Chinese Jasmine by the time the tea tray arrived.

"Aren't the Crown of Thorns coming on well?" Lucius said, following her gaze to the luxuriant, pus-filled flowers threatening to spill over into the birdbath below. "But I assume you didn't come here to admire my succulents?"

"No," Hermione admitted. Faced with the bald reality, all her little speeches seemed contrived, or worse – was she assuming something that didn't even exist? Severus Snape wasn't exactly a relationship expert.

"Do enlighten me – should I be concerned?" His expression changed. "Is it to do with that damnable article in the _Prophet_? I assure you –"

"No. Well, it is and it isn't," Hermione said, and gave herself a mental bash on the head. Gryffindor courage, she reminded herself. "It doesn't matter, other than that it crystallised the situation. I've been…" She tried to come up with a way to phrase it so that didn't leave her looking like a complete idiot, and failed. "I'm afraid you caught me at a vulnerable moment. I'm getting on a bit –"

"Balderdash!" Lucius interjected, but she continued undeterred. He would say that, wouldn't he?

"– And while challenging, life as a teacher isn't particularly exciting. I suppose you intrigued me." He had been quite clever about it, but she couldn't find it in herself to begrudge him that.

"And now the mystery has worn off?" Lucius tilted his head a little, but the expression in his eyes was still warm.

"I don't mind that. I just don't see this – this thing between us going any further, so I'd rather stop now, while we're still ahead." Damn Ronald Weasley and all the time Hermione had spent thinking about him, instead of learning how to bring relationships to an end without sounding like a five-year-old. "It's not you," she hastened to add, before realizing it was what everyone said when it was indeed the other person. "I'm in love with someone else, and I don't see that changing anytime soon," she blurted out.

A butterfly landed on the fringe of her scarf, and Hermione watched it climb towards her sleeve like her life depended on it, rather than thinking about the fact that she'd just handed her heart on a plate to Lucius Malfoy.

"I see." His voice was light as always, and Hermione chanced a glance at his face. It was pensive, as if his mind was dwelling on faraway places. "I assume Severus is unaware of his good fortune?"

Hermione's teacup landed on the floor with a crack, startling the butterfly into flight.

"No matter," Lucius said, mending the broken cup with a neat flick of his wand. "It was quite obvious once you told me. Not even Harry Potter figures as largely in your conversation as Severus does."

Hermione contemplated denial, before conceding that she already had given herself away. "If you're his friend at all, I beg you not to tell him. He'd probably be happier to find out the Giant Squid had a thing for him than I." In a world where Lily Evans had never existed, Hermione might have attempted to make an impression on Severus. In this one, she knew better than imagining she could compete with long-dead saints with brilliant green eyes.

"I promise I won't." A half-smile sat on his lips as if it belonged there. "I think you ought to, however."

Hermione knocked her cup over a second time. "I don't think so," she said when she had recovered. "I've seen the type of damage he can inflict with his tongue, and I'm not keen to have my foolishness thrown back in my face. Thanks, but no thanks."

"On the contrary, I think you might find his reaction… interesting." Lucius inspected his immaculate fingernails.

"Perhaps. Then again, I rode a dragon when I was nineteen, I don't need to get my adrenaline kicks now." Her Muggle cousins had started running marathons and skydiving as they approached forty. Hermione shuddered and felt doubly thankful for the Hogwarts library, which contained all the excitement she needed.

Well, almost. Hence the current mess. She stole a glance at Lucius, who was looking unusually exasperated.

"Gryffindors," he mumbled, before collecting himself. "A week ago Severus turned up unannounced when I was tending to the winged horses. You may be familiar with his reason for calling," Lucius tactfully skimmed over it, for which Hermione was grateful, "but what struck me particularly was his manner. He was acting somewhere between an Erumpent with a grievance and a Green Tree Frog trying to protect its favourite tree from loggers."

"He might have been doing – someone – a favour," Hermione mumbled. "He's not very good at being gracious."

"He's not very good at sharing, either. What Severus is exceedingly good at is tying himself into knots, believing he isn't good enough to have what he wants." That was extraordinarily plain speaking, coming from Lucius Malfoy. "Which, my dear, is you."

Hermione was about to dismiss the suggestion again, but Lucius raised an aristocratic hand to silence her.

"He went to considerable lengths to ensure I intended to treat you with the respect you deserve, up to and including threatening to employ his arsenal of Dark curses should I fail to do so. Believe me, I have known him since he was eleven. He's not as opaque as he'd like to be."

Hermione coughed meaningfully.

"His feelings have always been closer to the surface than his motives. There is no Dark Lord to deceive now, so he doesn't have to bury his desires anymore," Lucius said, almost convincing enough to make one overlook the fact that he had been as ignorant of Severus' true loyalties as everyone else.

'Desires' did sound appealing however, almost enough to tempt Hermione into believing him. She tried to think of a more plausible explanation. "Perhaps he's taking a – a fatherly interest?" That would be even worse than indifference.

"Severus? Severus Snape? He might have done his best to protect his students during the war, but I've yet to see him take a paternal interest in anyone's love life."

When Lucius put it like that, it was hard to argue with him.

* * *

Hermione was so distracted when she left the Manor that she attempted to Floo home through an alcove, before Lucius directed her to the more conventional fireplace. When the green sparks had died down and he was alone again, he headed to his study to compose a letter. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to produce a simple sheet of parchment – in the beginning, he spent several minutes holding his quill in the air after starting boldly with:

 _Dear Severus,_

As he wrote, the stern frown lines on his forehead slowly dissolved, and by the time he signed with a flourish, Lucius looked positively gleeful.

 _I'm writing to inform you that I consider my life debt to you settled, by means of the inestimable Ms Granger. You may express your gratitude the next time we meet. As your friend, I also have one piece of advice: do not fuck this up. You will not get a second chance, so on this occasion you will simply have to accept your good fortune despite your unworthiness, past misdeeds etc etc._

 _Lucius_

 _P.S. Bring your chessboard on Thursday, mine has been sent to Alexandria for repair. Why is it so difficult to find competent craftsmen these days?_

* * *

Hermione approached the dungeons with apprehension. Her previous trip had been bad enough; this time, she had to force her legs to move every step down the long, winding staircase. The only reason she wasn't curled up on her couch with a good book (or tolerable, she wouldn't be fussy tonight) was the faint shimmer of a possibility that Lucius Malfoy was right.

Merely thinking the sentence through almost sent her scurrying back before Severus noticed her approach, but Hermione chomped down on her panic. By virtue of the law of averages, Lucius was almost guaranteed to spend the second half of his life in a flurry of correct judgements.

Even if he was mistaken, she had to try. Hermione could bear the prospect of a future containing cats, research and a cottage, but not if it involved regrets. As long as there was any chance – any chance at all – that she could have what she wanted most of all, she had make the attempt.

Her courage carried her through the door to Severus' office for the second time in two days, but this time it was empty. The discovery brought her up short. A quick mental review of his schedule told her he most likely was to be found in the staffroom on a Friday morning, perusing his newly delivered academic journals. If her mind hadn't been running on autopilot since meeting Lucius last night, she could have spared herself the journey.

Severus was indeed parked in his favourite armchair in the staffroom. Unfortunately, his scowling presence didn't restore Hermione's equilibrium, and her carefully rehearsed speech escaped her.

With nothing else to fall back upon, she opted for directness. "Why did you try to convince me not to give Lucius up, when you care for me yourself?"

When he looked up at her, Severus looked like a man whose dragons had come home to roast, resigned to his fate. His sneer was nowhere to be found, and for the first time, Hermione dared to really hope.

"Because Lucius, however mistaken in his wartime allegiances, is a better match for you in every single way I can think of."

"Really? How?" Hermione asked. The conversation felt like it was happening in some parallel universe – they both sounded like they were discussing changes to the Muggle Studies curriculum. She couldn't quite make herself believe this was real.

"Do I have to spell it out? Apart from the obvious advantages of allying oneself to the richest and most powerful man in England rather than a skint schoolteacher –"

"Deputy Headmaster, if you please," she pointed out.

He didn't dignify that with a response. " – Advantages that would benefit the weakest and poorest groups of society as well as you alone, there is the emotional aspect to consider."

Hermione barely had time to catch her breath before he continued his tirade.

"While one prospect is so alluring he managed to kill his first love through his – my – own idiocy, Lucius not only managed to remain happily married for decades, he also nursed his wife through a long, debilitating illness. If he has abandoned his old beliefs sufficiently to be interested in you, he has addressed the one area in which I could be expected to surpass him."

"If –" Hermione wasn't sure which of a dozen things to say, but it didn't matter. Severus didn't allow her to continue anyway.

"Add to that the fact that Lucius' charm is renowned across the wizarding world, while most people prefer not having to talk to me if they can avoid it. I think it's fairly clear what your choice is going to be…What it _should_ be." He delivered the last sentence like he had demolished her non-existing argument, and Hermione was suddenly furious. It jolted her out of her stupor, as if her subconscious had given her a kick to sit up and take notice, because this was going to be important.

"Really? So you decided to make my choice for me."

He snorted. "It's hardly as if you've been waiting for me to declare my undying love these past five years or so."

"Not five. More like two, really." In addition to being perfectly true, saying it gave her the tremendous satisfaction of taking the wind out of his sails completely.

With Snape finally speechless, Hermione recklessly continued. "I won't lie and tell you I believed it was you who sent me those things. I wanted it to be, but I knew it wasn't. It doesn't matter what it is, either – you could give me a bloody crushed beetle, and I'd treasure it because it was from you." She stopped worrying about sounding too pathetic as soon as she dared look at his face. Hermione had seen Severus Snape incredulous many times – usually at the seemingly infinite stupidity of his students – but his carefully constructed mask rarely allowed naked wonder to shine through.

Having started, there was one way to go – onwards and upwards. "Sod Lucius and his money – I don't give a fig about that, and you know it. I don't care how much he loved another woman either, it's me I'm concerned about. The same thing goes for you – the past should stay in the past, where it belongs." She had to pause for breath, but he was too dazed to interrupt. Now that I know you actually – you –" Hermione fumbled for the right word, shying away from 'love' but unwilling to stoop to 'fancy'.

"I've loved you for years. If you truly prefer me to Lucius Malfoy," Severus still had a note of doubt in his voice, "then –"

They stared at each other, as if they were seeing each other for the first time in this most humdrum of rooms, where they'd argued about marking and politics, and slowly, slowly, fallen in love.

Afterwards Hermione could never figure out who made the first move; all she knew was that one moment she was at the other side of the room, and the next she was suddenly in his arms.

"I won't be sending you any precious little gifts, so be warned," Severus told her hair a few minutes later, clearly intent on laying all his cards on the table.

"Love's young dream, very nice. Can you two keep it down? I'm trying to have a rest here." Professor Binns' creaky voice reminded them where they were, and they broke apart like a pair of guilty students.

"Sorry," Hermione called out, but she had never been less sorry in her life.

 **THE END**


End file.
